


Instinctual

by Glitch1 (The_Glitches)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Prime
Genre: Instinctual Seeker fragging, Knotting, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Seekers, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, little bit of a cum kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 05:16:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9533417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Glitches/pseuds/Glitch1
Summary: Rare pair challenge for Van.Working under Dreadwing infuriates Starscream to no end, but Seeker kind are harder to ignore than either of them realize. When a mission turns south, primitive instincts kick in.PWP, pure self indulgence.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vanamiya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanamiya/gifts).



> Originally this was for a word prompt, Golden. But by the time I reached the part I wanted to use it, it didn't hold any significance at all, so I omitted it. Still, rare-pair DreadStar is fun to write.

This situation, it was not favorable.

But it was preferable.

Preferable to the pitiful state he was in before, scavenging for the slightest energon crystals, _if_ luck should grace him. He spent the majority of his time as a rogue staving, deteriorating in both mind and body. Without his ability to fly he was a dead mech walking. Emphasis on the walking. It would have been a matter of time until his ‘grounded delirium’ set in, and it was one of the leading factors in his decision to approach Megatron with the Omega keys. It was a choice: Risk termination or imprisonment by Megatron, or face certain madness when his Seeker ailment set in. The Autobots were a slim choice, after everything he had done to them they would certainly lock him up, and he’d still face his inevitable insanity. The Autobots were the enemy; they wouldn’t care, nor would they believe him.

Several months had now passed since his reinstatement into the Deception ranks, and while he was both relived and surprised Megatron had not completely torn his status away, he was furious to have to serve under the rule of his successor. 

Dreadwing. 

The mech despised him. Loathed him, and he made sure Starscream knew. On a _daily_ basis. His superior position annoyed Starscream to no end. That was _his_ title, those were _his_ duties, and _he_ carried them out _better_ than that blue oaf of a Seeker. This, Starscream made sure _Dreadwing_ knew. 

There were very real, very close moments when he could see Dreadwing’s control waver on the edge, pulled so taut it could have snapped at the slightest nudge. And Starscream would have died, he would have been terminated. All because of his inability to keep his own dangerous glossa still. It was no secret Dreadwing routinely address his concerns and suspicions against Starscream to Megatron, urging him to reconsider the traitor. But Megatron would tell him, each time, that Starscream was not to be killed, his mind was a valuable asset. Dreadwing did not believe him. And almost in retaliation for his continued existence, Dreadwing would return to Starscream’s proximity and make his day miserable. Or try to. Starscream often countered his unfair treatment with his own sharp wit, and it was Dreadwing who wound up irked.

They played a game of push and shove for those first few months, trying to provoke something unforgiveable from the other, trying to wrangle leverage in their favor. But neither could triumph the other. Dreadwing had status on his side, and Starscream wielded cleverness.

But then something happened.

Something… ignited.

Starscream had heard of Knockout’s tales about the lust after a battle; how he and Breakdown had often leapt upon one another as the thrill of the fight urged them on – even after the energon had been spilled. Once, they had barely made it to their berth. Starscream had scoffed at Knockout, derisive of his untamed lust.

He could never have known how real that lust was. Until it gripped him.

When the Autobots ambushed them.

The battle hadn’t even been a prolonged one. But it had been dangerous. All the drones were killed, their bodies littered the rocky terrain as the Autobots fired aggressively at the higher officers. _They_ were the real targets. Somehow the enemy had intercepted transmissions from the aerial party, Dreadwing’s recruited armada, during their practice runs through Earth’s canyon lands. They had struck with tenacity, desperate to eliminate Megatron’s high rank. 

And they almost succeeded. 

A shot punctured Dreadwing’s cockpit, shattering the canopy as shards flung through the air. Not a moment later another chased after, impaling the drone flanking Dreadwing. It exploded, hurtling mangled plating everywhere, colliding with Dreadwing. He spun out of control and was forced to transform, landing behind a rock that was immediately pelted with concentrated blaster fire. He was pinned. The rock crumbled away, about to expose him – 

Starscream, slight and speedy, had managed to evade all fire. He soared in, unleashing his duo of missiles. They imploded the Autobot’s wall of shelter, bringing the heavy rock down on top of them as they tried to scramble to safety. 

Dreadwing was in the air quickly, joining Starscream’s trajectory even as one of the accursed Autobots shook themselves free and hailed them with fire. An agonizing stab shot through Starscream’s thruster, he felt his plating rip under the duress of flight speeds – and a second nipped his right wing, a sharp burn through his sensor net. Suddenly it was raining fire – they were sure to be downed – 

The canyon wall collapsed around them. Dust billowed into the air, clogging their fans. Starscream’s spark was in his intake – they were going to be crushed. Ton-heavy boulders flew at them. They dodged, they scraped by, they shook with adrenalin as they collided with each other, sending both jets on a chaotic spin sure to end them –

The splash was shocking; not for the temperature, but the sound, the impact. Starscream was knocked dazed, his wing tangled with another, his systems screaming pain at him.

His orientation jerked, he felt himself being dragged away from the pull of gravity. His audials caught the sound of breeching water and his fans sucked in air, spitting out liquid. He was hauled to land by a strong servo, still very much confused. His processor rebooted, and visual feed returned. When had he transformed back? 

A shadow fell over him, blocking out the sharp sun, dripping across his soaked frame. Starscream turned his optics up as a glint caught his awareness. 

The opulent hue of Dreadwing’s faceplate glowed in the sunlight, blinking at him with each shift. Like a beacon. Starscream stared, enthralled by the richness of the color. It was hypnotic…

“Starscream,” Dreadwing rasped.

His systems flared to life, flooded with multiple strings of adrenalin during their short life-chasing escape. _Something_ within him bloomed outwards, prickling through his field and enveloping the other Seeker.

Dreadwing froze, his faceplate hovering above, red optics gleaming as they locked onto other’s.

_Something_ passed between them. 

Suddenly they were moving. Mouths met, lip plates feverishly assaulting each other. Dreadwing hauled Starscream further onto the rocky bank, hungrily kissing his way into the small jet’s mouth as he handled him with ease. It should have infuriated Starscream, it should have provoked his wild anger, but it served only to hasten the lust rampaging through his shell-shocked systems. Fire-like heat burned through him with such intensity that had he been in his right mind he would be worried. Impossibly, the heat only increased when Dreadwing pushed between Starscream’s legs, settling himself above the smaller frame. Glossas entangled, dancing against the other in an aggressive wrestle. The arm cupping his small back suddenly pressed him hard into Dreadwing’s frame, and in doing so forced Starscream’s neck back against the organic ground, pushing for dominance in his mouth. Both sets of wings shivered with untapped desire. They should have evaluated their location, secured the perimeter at the very least. Reason, logic, hate and distrust – they didn’t exist. Rational functions had been cast away. A much more primal and compelling force controlled them, raging within the bubble of their fields. 

Long talons gripped Dreadwing’s helm and the SIC’s servos began roaming mindlessly along Starscream’s frame, using the other to balance his weight on; just enough self-awareness to know he would crush the smaller jet. The tactile feedback fed into him, flooding his processor with the need to join, the ach to fill his every sensor with Starscream. The contours beneath his palm sent electric through his neural net in a way that he couldn’t describe, but it drove him forward, pushed his frame to grind against the smaller. Starscream growled hungrily, nipping Dreadwing’s bottom lip plate sharply. Every feeling amplified and transmitted to the other through their tumultuous EM fields, leaving no room for anything but Seeker instinct.

Heat coursed through them, almost too quickly. Steam began to rise from their plating as water evaporated, even as it trickled from the shattered canopy of Dreadwing’s cockpit onto Starscream’s hot metal. Fans roared away suddenly, but the noise was lost to both Seekers. Interface panels retracted and the scent of arousal increased. Starscream growled again as he shifted, trying to free his spike between their two writhing frames. His tone changed instantly the moment friction was gained, mingled together with a hiss from his Commander as they slid against each other.

Dreadwing shifted his hips, drawing back from the delicious grinding. Starscream growled at the loss, a slave to the primitive drive of WANT and NEED, but when the head of Dreadwing’s weeping spike nudged against his anterior node – intentionally or just luckily – he arched with a keen, dizzy to the suddenly pleasure. His denta clamped down on Dreadwing’s lip plate again, drawing energon, and almost as quickly as it welled Starscream was licking it away. Dreadwing chased his own blood in the hollow of Starscream’s mouth as he curled his hips forward again, his spike sliding between the folds of the small jet’s plump valve.

Starscream’s moan of pleasure jumped into a yelp of bliss as Dreadwing pushed into him. Muffled as it was, the vibrations tickled the back of Dreadwing’s intake, and in response he sheathed himself entirely. The hot grip of Starscream’s valve sent his processor spiraling into a vortex of blurred thoughts, and at the center was the compulsion to _claim_ this other Seeker. To mate with one of his own, however subclass.

Starscream tore his mouth away to moan hotly, the sensation of being filled stunting his capacity to think. He shivered drunkenly, riding on the initial wave of pleasure before his cognizance drizzled back to a somewhat semi-coherent state. But no sooner than he had, a gasp flew from his vocalizer as Dreadwing pushed yet further into him, if it was even possible. Bolts of code-frying ecstasy soared through him as Dreadwing’s spike pressed against his ceiling node. Lubricant trickled in copious amounts from his valve, and as the larger Seeker withdrew and _plunged_ back in, the obscene squelching of Starscream’s fluids sent a kick of raw pleasure over them both, resulting in a rapid crescendo in their overcharge levels. Static crackled sharply between them, dancing over their undulating frames.

Dreadwing’s pace gained speed and power, lurching them both where they lay. Moans fled freely, unmoderated. There was nothing of the two highly competent, battle-hardened officers there on that shore. In their place were two Seekers, ruled by long-suppressed coding, summoned together by their relation of species, the pull of their ingrained nature.

With a cry that echoed around the mountains and scattered the wildlife, Starscream’s overload claimed him completely. His every circuit and line pulled taut, his wings splaying out so hard the joints ached – his valve clamped tightly around the spike still thrusting within him as he climaxed. Searing heat incapacitated him, blanking his vision as a stream of transfluid erupted from his neglected spike, and lubricant squirted around the tight fit of Dreadwing’s length as it was impaled so deep a hiccup was forced past his intake.

Dreadwing yelled, his voice bouncing off the body of water as he gripped Starscream’s hips hard and spilled himself inside. His array jerked sporadically as wave after wave of overcharge washed through him, rinsing him of the buildup. He felt his claws dig into the ground, his wings jerk to their highest angle and his vocalizer fail into static as it strained.

It was after some unknown length of time when their processor’s rebooted, when their awareness returned. Dreadwing found himself staring up at the sky, hips nudging gentle pushes against Starscream’s interface array as the vestiges of pleasure faded. To his surprise, he felt his rather generous dosage of transfluid flowing about the tip of his snug spike, confined within Starscream’s tight channel. The very realization brought another warm rush to his circuits, though it paled in comparison to the fever that had just gripped them. He felt something else, too, something that had occurred during his release…

He looked down. Starscream shifted lethargically beneath him, gathering his wits through the hazy mist of their interface. Not even Dreadwing had the ability to deny how attractive this piece of slag was; wings fanned out widely, clear language to Dreadwing, who had to forcefully suppress a renewed arousal. His chassis was stained with his own transfluid, and that should have disgusted Dreadwing. It didn’t. His field pulsed with yearning, and he feared what that meant. 

Starscream’s optics fell on him and he froze. A brief flash of confusion was replaced by a look of horrified contempt.

“You – ” He snarled, or tried to. His vocalizer spat static. He, too, had strained his components. 

“ _We_ ,” Dreadwing corrected him, or more accurately, spat an equal amount of static.

Whatever retort he had in mind never left his parted lip plates. Dreadwing remembered ravishing them, and he involuntarily licked his own.

Starscream’s optics darted to the movement. His field pulsed, still interlocked with Dreadwing’s and consequently betraying his fresh surge of interest. When he realized, he scowled angrily and withdrew it – only to find the task was somewhat trickier than it should have been. His optics widened, as did his superior’s.

“No…” he growled in realization, his voice distorted. “No.. th— is NOT hap---ing!”

It was as he shifted angrily – and then stopped – that he felt what was still inside him. His round gaze lowered to where they were joined.

He tried to scramble back, but Dreadwing restrained him, gripping his hips with both servos.

“ _Wait_ ,” he commanded quickly, his distorted voice lace with embarrassment.

Starscream felt it, the pressure within him. Or, actually, the pressure _s_. “What – tha-?” He demanded croakily, uncertainly. His sensor net was coming back to him, and now he could feel a very large anomaly. Along with the sharp pain of his battle-gained injuries.

“We’re knotted…” Dreadwing answered. When he was met with a bewildered and furious gaze, he felt the need to clarify. “Our S--ker codings have conjoined. Our fields reacted t- one a--ther and it trigged - bonding protocol.” 

Starscream looked incensed as his wings hitched up aggressively. “Undo --! G-t out of me r---t now!”

“I cannot,” Dreadwing told him firmly, leveling his gaze and trying not to mimic his wing language. “We mus- wait un--l I deflate. After th--, if we d- not initiate ano--er round of… _whatever_ this w--, the bond will dissolve.” He pressed their hips back flush together, easing the pull on his knot.

A noticeable shiver traversed Starscream’s frame, and through the pulse of his field still entwined around Dreadwing’s, he knew it wasn’t the knot’s pressure alone. He had filled him pretty full. Dreadwing glanced down, almost expecting to see the smaller jet’s cockpit plating bulge.

“This changes noth---,” Starscream growled tamely, his wings relaxing a little. The after effects of their interface was finally mellowing him out. “I st-ll despise you.”

“The f--ling is mutual,” Dreadwing assured him. It occurred to him that they were still only a few clicks from the site of battle. Shame clambered through him. How reckless they had been. He caught Starscream looking at something on his faceplate, and suddenly his pain sensors delivered the relevant feedback; the bite on his lip.

For a mech as despicable as Starscream, he was certainly one of the best interfaces he’d had. And judging by the smug look on his face as he read through his field, the slagger knew.

Oh, how Dreadwing hated him.


End file.
